


A Man With A Hammer

by Barkour



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astrid likes what she sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man With A Hammer

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill, for [this prompt](http://httyd-kink-meme.livejournal.com/388.html?thread=128900). Finally de-anoning!

Astrid ducked into the smithy. A tight skirl of wind and snow flurries followed her in, chasing her feet. Heat from the forge rolled thick and dry over her, and she chafed her hands together, warming them in her gloves.

She took the forge in at a glance: Gobber sorting through shields at the front, Hiccup working at the anvil further back. Firelight sparked in Hiccup's hair, throwing up thin sparks.

"And to what do we owe this pleasure, Astrid?" said Gobber. He thumped a red-and-black patterned shield before the rest.

Astrid hitched her chin. "I need to borrow your apprentice."

"Oh, he's just--"

"In a minute!" Hiccup shouted. He swung the hammer down, cutting himself off. 

Gobber shrugged. "Well, you heard him. Make yourself at home. Except for over there," he said quickly as she advanced on a leather seat, "the, ah, terrors have been sitting over there. Made themselves a little too at home, if you know what I mean."

She eyed the stains spattered across the seat and chose instead to stand. Gobber recessed, chuckling. 

Astrid wandered along the near wall. A war hammer laid stretched across hooks set into the wall. She traced the shaft, considering the heft of it, the weight on her shoulders.

"So," Hiccup called over the thrumming blows he cast upon the anvil, "what've got you planned? Anything, uh, special?"

"Nothing much," she said, trailing her fingers across a sheet of metal set against the wall. "Fishlegs' mom is reciting some eddas tonight."

"Oh, yeah," he said, "that sounds fun. Did you want to grab something to eat first? Oh, hold on--"

She turned. Hiccup leaned over the anvil, his hand splayed across the length of metal he shaped. Sweat gleamed at his throat, his temples. His teeth flashed, white before his lip. He bit the corner of his mouth. Her skin pricked.

Astrid looked away to the shields arranged in display at the back. Gobber worked there now, switching out older models for new ones. 

"Why?" she said. "Was there something you wanted to eat?" She lifted a shield from its hook, turning it over to inspect. Sturdy workmanship, a solid heft. She raised it, mock-blocking, and chanced a look beneath her arm.

Certainly she could think Hiccup scrawny. She did and would again. But he was lean, all his strength in his long back, and if he couldn't shoulder a battle axe or do much with a shield, he knew well enough how to swing a hammer. 

The muscles high in his back rippled, tense beneath his tunic. He brought the hammer down again, a pealing blow delivered with confidence and an easy grace. Small sparks skittered off the metal, fletching the air. 

She followed the line of his jaw, set and traced with shadows, then she turned away. 

Gobber grinned at her. "Oh, aye," he said, sotto voce. "He knows what he's doing around here." He winked at her and vanished into the back, laughing to himself.

Astrid fussed with the shield, turning it round in her hands, then setting it back on the hook. She walked on past the rows of brightly painted shields, festooned with dragons and divine symbols and the smithy's hammer. Hammer and tong, sword and shield, but she looked to Hiccup instead: 

Hiccup, with his hair ruddy in the light of the forge and his shoulders thrown wide, at ease as he was on a dragon and never in the ring. Hiccup, whose long, rough fingers clasped the hammer's shaft and held it steady, held it straight, unerring in his strokes. Hiccup, who stared unblinking down upon the anvil and into the sparks showering off the metal. 

"There," he said, satisfied. Work roughed his voice, threw it deeper. He set the hammer aside and taking the curled length of metal up with tongs, he slipped it carefully into the cooling water set at his hip. Steam fluffed off the water. 

Astrid drew up beside him. A drop of sweat beaded at his ear and slicked down his throat. The small scar that ran beneath his lip, parallel to his jaw, shone white. He grinned up at her. A streak of grease showed dark alongside his nose.

"Almost done," he said. "I just have to get my work area all cleaned up and then we can go wherever it is you wanted to go. Fishlegs', right?" He stripped off his gloves.

"Leave it to Gobber," said Astrid. "He can clean up."

"What, are you kidding?" Hiccup said. "My mess, my clean-up."

She leaned into him, using her height to effect. Hiccup sucked in a breath. His eyes went wide.

"Spare me," Gobber said from the back. He leaned through the doorway. "Go on, get out before you get all lovey-dovey in my nice, neat shop."

Hiccup half-turned. His brow glimmered, streaked with sweat beading in his hair. "But Gobber--"

Gobber flapped his hand at them. "I'll let you off this once. But you'll be on slag duty for the rest of the week." He ducked back through the doorway.

Hiccup threw his hands up. "Oh, great. Slag duty. Did you hear that? I'm going to be chipping glass for hours. Thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet," she said. She stepped closer.

"What?" he said. "Oh--"

Astrid kissed him. Sweat lined his lip; salt stung her tongue. She leaned back. Hiccup followed, dazed.

"But you're welcome," she said. She punched his shoulder lightly. "Get your coat. It's freezing outside."

He reached for his apron strings, drawing the leather tight across his chest, his flat stomach. "Where are we going again?"

"You'll see," she said.As


End file.
